


Garrett Thomas

by RandomWordsAndStormyDays



Series: Random's Fallout OCs [5]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Brotherhood of Steel (Fallout), M/M, a character close to him goes ghoul, and he gets an ultimatum, garrett has to prove his loyalty to the brotherhood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 12:16:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20891972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomWordsAndStormyDays/pseuds/RandomWordsAndStormyDays
Summary: This is a collection of all the one-shots and ficlets for my OC Garrett.





	1. The One Where Garrett Meets Andrew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrett is a loner, what happens when someone new comes into his life?

The quiet clearing of a throat from behind him causes Garrett to drop the blow torch he’s currently using to weld two finicky pieces of metal together. Luckily for him, and his uninvited guest, the safety features on the equipment shut off the light blue flame as soon as his fingers slide off of the grip. Still, he’s annoyed, and his annoyance transfers to the person who interrupted his work.

Garrett retrieved the torch from the floor before turning around to address the intruder. Standing across the workshop from him is a man, blond hair, dark eyes, and a deep scar down the side of his neck. The stranger is attractive, Garrett notices, but even still he came into his work space, uninvited, which could have come with serious consequences. His guest’s charming smile does little to quiet the voice in his head that wants to yell at the man to leave.

He places the torch back into it’s storage compartment before lowering his bandana from his mouth and sliding his welding gogglesonto the top of his head. “Can I help you?” The question isn’t asked nicely, but the blond’s smile doesn’t falter, if anything it widens.

“I was told that you take your meal down here and not in the mess hall,” it’s only then that Garrett notices the metal container which symbolizes his dinner, “I’m new, and not authorized to handle the food yet so I was told to bring this to you.”

Garrett’s stomach clenches at the thought of food and suddenly he can’t help but notice that he’s starving. Often times he gets so caught up in his work that hours go by, and he doesn’t eat, drink, or even use the bathroom unless someone interrupts his focus. He feels a little bad for snapping earlier, but he’s not the type to apologize.

“Thanks.”

The container is warm, which means that blondie didn’t wait before bringing him his food, which is what his normal delivery guy does. He peels back the lid and inhales deeply as the hot steam rises to meet him. He breathes in the scent of roasted potatoes, grilled radstag, and gravy, his favorite.

“Scribe Taylor prepared the meal tonight, I’ve been told he’s the best.”

This is new. Usually Scribe Davers drops off his food and leaves, he’s never tried to initiate conversation before. This new Scribe, who’s name he still doesn’t know, is standing with his hands behind his back, rocking slightly on his heels like he has no intention of leaving. It makes Garrett uncomfortable. Everyone knows that he’s antisocial, and prefers to work with metal and wires over faking pleasant conversation with other members of the Brotherhood. It was his dedication to his craft that got him promoted to Knight, not his communication skills.

He fumbles with a reply. “Uh, I guess. Never really know who’s cooking. I just eat what I’m given.”

The Scribe seems shocked at his response, he stops rocking and his mouth opens slightly, just barely parting, which means he must know of Garrett’s reputation. Instead of continuing to acknowledge the man’s presence, Garrett turns back to his work bench and begins to clear some space so he can eat. He turns to find a chair and is surprised to see that his dinner-bringer is still there.

“Can I help you?” He repeats his question from earlier, having already used most of his conversation skills on discussing his food.

“Not particularly, but bringing you your food was my last tasking for the day, so I figure, what’s the rush to leave?” He finishes his statement with a shrug of his shoulders, much too relaxed and casual for Garrett’s taste.

“Listen,” Garrett sighs as he places his food on the table, “I don’t know if you haven’t heard, or if you just don’t care, but I don’t really do the whole ‘social interaction’ thing”, he punctuates the last two words with air quotes, “so thank you for my food, but you can go now.” He doesn’t imagine the way the man’s eyes dim or the dropping of his shoulders, or the way his smile is wiped completely from his face, and for some reason the realization that he’s disappointed the other man makes him itchy, like he has to retract what he said just so the man will smile. What is wrong with him?

“Oh,” the word isn’t so much spoken as it is released on an exhale, “I’ll, um, just leave then.” The man glances up to make eye contact, gives what appears to be a forced smile. “Enjoy your meal.” He leaves without another word.

Garrett turns back to his food, but his stomach rolls with an unfamiliar feeling. Regret? Remorse? Shame? He doesn’t know, but it means that when he goes to eat, the food doesn’t taste as good as it should.

The next day, the Scribe returns.

This time Garrett isn’t knee-deep in metal and fire, which means he’s not surprised when a knock sounds at the door. He is surprised, however, to see the new cook again.

“Hi there, I’ve got your lunch,” he presents the metal container like a present, and Garrett takes it eagerly. A quick glance reveals mutfruit, razorgrain bread, and dried Brahmin jerky, “also I realized I never told you my name,” he holds out his hand, “I’m Scribe Andrew Parker.”

Garrett eyes the hand like it might infect him. He doesn’t shake it, instead he turns and walks away. “Yeah, I’m Knight Thomas. Thanks for the food.”

Scribe Parker follows him to the table and takes a seat. “Um, what do you think you’re doing?”

Andrew shrugs and settles into the chair. “I want to get to know you. I don’t have many friends yet, and I have officially taken over for Scribe Davers,” he smiles wide, “so we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.”

Garrett doesn’t really have a response to that, and he feels like nothing he says is going to convince this new recruit that his presence isn’t welcomed. He’s convinced that after a few days Andrew will get bored of him and his lack of caring.

“Good luck with that.” Is his only response before he begins to eat him lunch.

Scribe Parker is not deterred and over the course of the next month he manages to coax what could possible be considered aquatenceship with Garrett. Garrett, in turn, actually finds himself looking forward to the cook’s visits, and not just because the other man brings him food. Slowly, but surely, he opens up to Andrew about his past, his job, his goals, and in turn he gets the Scribe’s entire life story, which he actually tries to remember.

Then, one day, their relationship changes.

It starts like any other interaction, Andrew drops of Garrett’s food, but instead of leaving he stays to chat, following Garrett to his table and starting to talk.

“So, Knight Thomas,” he pauses long enough to sit down and lean forward on his elbows, “I have a question for you.” Garrett takes a bite of his food and hums in response, unable to answer with his mouth full. “Do you want to go on a date sometime?”

The immediate inhalation that that questions prompts sends the dry bread straight to the back of Garrett’s throat. This, in turn, sends him into a choking fit, complete with chest pounding and teary eyes. By the time he can speak Scribe Parker is looking at with concern, half out of his seat and arm raised towards Garrett like he wants to help.

“What did you just say?” His throat is raw from coughing and he reaches for a can of purified water to soothe the pain.

Andrew waits for him to finish drinking before responding, “I asked if you wanted to go on a date with me.”

“That’s what I thought you said.”

That gets him a wide smile. “And?”

Garrett swallows, then clears his throat. “I don’t really… do dates.” He feels his cheeks flood with heat. It wasn’t as if he had never found anyone attractive before, but his lack of social skills and his preference for solitude didn’t exactly pave the way for a lot of romantic options. More often than not he’d chicken out long before he gathered the courage to even speak to someone he was interested in.

The one time Garrett managed to ask a fellow Knight out for drinks, she turned him down harshly enough that he never really tried again. It wasn’t her fault that he was awkward and conversationally inept, but she could have been nicer with her rejection. There had been no reason for her to imply that he wasn’t dateable, even if she followed it up with an invitation to her bed.

After that he stopped trying to get dates, one night stands and flings were good enough for Garrett, there was almost no need for talking and he was better with his hands anyways.

That gets him a thoughtful look before he asks, “so you’ve never been on a date?” Garrett shakes his head slowly, embarrassed by the admission. Scribe Parker’s eyes widen a bit. “Well, I’d like to take you on one, if you’d like.”

The silence stretches between them as Garrett considers this. He likes Andrew, finds him funny, interesting, and attractive. They get along, no one else has had the patience to actually break through the walls that Garrett had constructed to keep people away. He doesn’t have to wonder if Scribe Parker feels the same, since he’s the one initiating the romantic scenario, yet he still finds himself nervous. What if it’s a joke, or a ploy? Andrew has never done anything to insult or hurt him before, but that doesn’t mean that this isn’t some elaborate bet between the cooks or Andrew’s other friends.

But Garrett wants to say yes. Wouldn’t mind going out with Andrew, both of them dressed in civilians, getting to know each other outside of Garrett’s humid, dingy workroom. It’s not often that he finds himself wanting something enough to put himself at risk of getting hurt, and he doesn’t want to miss the opportunity for something good.

Andrew’s happy look is gone by the time Garrett responds, and he knows that it’s because of how long he took to reply. It comes back full force when Garrett gives a tentative smile and says, “okay.”

The next time Garrett sees Andrew they’re both in clean, nice clothes, and he doesn’t think he’s been this happy in a while. Their night out ends with a kiss and Garrett finds his cheeks hurting hours later, when he can’t seem to stop himself from smiling.


	2. The One Where Garrett Loses His Husband

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrett receives an ultimatum from the Brotherhood, one meant to prove his loyalty.

The transformation starts slowly, and at first Garrett just thinks that his husband is sick. The fatigue and sore throat can be explained away easy enough using that assumption, and his worry is satiated. When Andrew’s hair begins to thin and then fall out, they worry it’s radiation poisoning, and Garrett secretly steals a few radaways from Dr. Cade’s medical supplies. No amount of medicine seems to help, however, and Andrew makes a joke that he’s just getting old.

It’s only when helping his husband change one night that he realizes exactly what’s happening.

There’s a patch of skin starting from Andrew’s lower back that snakes its way across his left side before coming to rest right below his shoulder blade. It’s dry and patchy, a deep reddish purple in color, and feels like leather to the touch.

Andrew is turning into a ghoul.

In the back of his mind, Garrett always knew that this was a possibility. His husband works down in the kitchen, working with raw food and wasteland creatures, that put out rads at higher than recommended levels. Every time they cook anything Andrew is exposed to radiated and mutated meat and contaminated, irradiated water. People that work on Andrew’s team and in his section are more likely than others to experience the adverse effects of long term exposure to radiation. Garrett always just assumed he’d get rad poisoning… not this.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” Garrett realizes that he’s frozen, fingers still hovering over the edge of his husband’s skin. He’s not sure what to do, does he tell him? Does he keep it a secret? Brotherhood protocol states that he must report this development to his superior officer, but this is Andrew, the man who saved him from himself, the love of his life. Could he really just turn him in? He pictures Andrew being taken away from the compound, dragged into some dirty alley, shot, killed, body left for the scavvers.

No. The answer is no.

“Nothing, love,” he punctuates his words with a gentle kiss to his husband’s shoulder, prays that his voice is steady, “I just forget how handsome you are sometimes.” It’s not technically a lie, but the words taste bitter on his tongue anyways.

He must not be shaking enough for his husband to notice because that gets him a laugh. Andrew spins in his embrace and loops his arms around his neck. “How can you say that when I look like this now?” The question is asked with humor, but Garrett can read sadness behind his eyes.

He leans down and kisses Andrew, feels something inside his chest shift when his husband sighs into his mouth, realizes that it’s his heart. When he pulls back the doubt is gone, replaced by adoration. “I don’t care if all your hair falls out and never comes back. You’ll always be handsome to me.” Garrett loves the blush that slides across Andrew’s face, it always happens when he gives a genuine compliment, or bares his honest feelings.

“I love you, you know? Forever and always.” Andrew mutters against his lips as he leans in for another kiss.

“I love you, too.” Garrett refuses to think about how long their forever will be.

It’s two weeks later when Andrew learns the truth.

Garrett is just coming off of his shift in the belly of the Brotherhood’s newest technological feat: The Prydwen. He’s tired, sore, and hungry, but all of that fades when he opens the door to his and Andrew’s room and find his husband sitting on the edge of their bed, head in his hands. All is silent in the room except for two things: the low hum of the machinery that can be heard all over the compound, and his husband’s hiccuping cries.

He doesn’t think, just drops his goggles onto the floor and drops down next to Andrew, sliding into the space between his legs and lifting his head with his hands. “Andrew, what’s wrong?” There are tear tracks down both of his cheeks and his eyes are red and puffy, clearly he’s been crying for a while. Twice Andrew goes to speak, but nothing comes out but another sob. Garrett turns his body so that he can hold him tighter before running a hand up and down Andrew’s back, trying to soothe him with the gentle touch. He has no idea how long he kneels there, holding his husband and trying to think of some way to help, but it’s long enough that his back cracks and his knees ache when Andrew finally pulls back.

There’s no eye contact between them when he gets an answer, even though Garrett tries to catch his husband’s eye. “It’ll be easier to show you.”

Garrett rises from the floor and takes a step back, giving Andrew room to maneuver. Wordlessly he watches as Andrew lifts up his shirt, exposing his upper body. Garrett’s mouth goes dry as his husband turns, showing off his back. The patch of ghoulified skin has spread, now spanning the entire bottom half of Andrew’s back, half of his left side, and stops at the very base of his neck. The sight sends dread through his entire body, did Andrew figure this out on his own, or did someone else spot it?

It’s only when the shirt falls back into place and Andrew turns around that he realizes that he never responded. Something in his face must give away that he knew because the devastation on Andrew’s face turns into scrutiny and confusion.

“Did you… did you already know?”

After a moment of hesitation, he nods his head, once, quick. Anger sparks behind Andrew’s eyes and he stalks forward until he’s right in front of Garrett.

“Why the hell would you keep this from me?” His voice is tainted with venom and Garrett can feel it begin to poison him from the inside out. Andrew has never spoken to him like that before, full of anger, hate, betrayal, and pain. He knows the only way to explain himself is with the truth.

“Because I was scared.” His voice cracks on the final word and Garrett lets out a shuddering breath. “I was terrified that if I told you that you’d want to turn yourself in, that somehow they’d find out,” tears prick at his eyes but he doesn’t move to stop them as they begin to slide down his face, “that they’d take you away and I’d never see you again.”

He reaches up to grasp at Andrew’s face, needing to feel him. “I know I should have told you, I shouldn’t have let you find out alone,” Andrew no longer looks half a second away from shooting him, more like he’s a breath away from collapsing instead, “but I wanted to live in denial a little longer, pretend that you were going to be okay.”

Andrew collapses into his chest and immediately Garrett raises his hand to hold him. They’re both quiet for a very long time, no words are spoken as the reality of their situation swirls in the air around them, squeezing at Garrett’s lungs. He takes a deep breath, trying to fight the panic that is creeping across his throat, tightening against his skin. He needs to stay calm, if not for himself then for Andrew. At least one of them needs to keep a level head, and he can’t expect the man who’s turning into a ghoul to hold that responsibility.

The silence breaks, cracks in half with two words, spoken against Garrett’s chest and muffled by his shirt. “What now?”

“I don’t know.” He answers honestly. “Our choices aren’t great.”

There aren’t many options before them, each one less appealing than the previous. They could run away, try and fall in with the people of the Capitol, and spend the rest of their lives on the run from the Brotherhood. They could keep Andrew’s condition a secret, run the risk of getting caught, both of them executed or, even worse, Garrett could be banished while Andrew is killed. Or, they could go to their leadership, beg to be released from duty, pray that they’ll let Andrew leave, and that they’ll let Garrett go with him. None of these appeal to the couple.

One look at his husband’s face and Garrett can tell that Andrew doesn’t want to make this decision. Anything he does potentially puts them both in danger and he would never make a decision that would put Garrett in harm’s way. So, he makes the choice for Andrew.

“We’ll keep it a secret, for now. Until I can get a feel for what Paladin Fenris might do or say.” He pulls back so he can make eye contact. “I won’t say anything to him if I think he might try to take you away. I’m not leaving you to go through this alone.” He leans down to press their foreheads together. “I’m with you until the end.”

Their end, their forever, comes sooner than either expected.

Garrett is working on fixing a leaky compressor, when Paladin Fenris approaches him. “Knight Thomas, your presence is requested. You are to report to Paladin Hopson at once.” Once he responds in the affirmative his leader turns and makes his exit. He’s gone quick enough that he doesn’t see the way Garrett’s hands begin to shake or the way his breathing picks up. Paladin Hopson is in charge of Andrew. Garrett can only hope that it’s not his worst nightmare comes to life, although he wouldn’t be surprised.

As he walks, he notices that his legs feel both like rubber and steal at the same time. Both like they can’t support his weight and like, they themselves, weigh hundreds of pounds. He’s not walking in the proper rhythm, his cadence is off, but no one makes mention of it as he walks down the docking line and towards the Vertibird that is waiting for him. His arms shake as he lifts himself into the belly of the bird and he can’t bring himself to make eye contact with the Scribe who’s flying him down when she asks if he’s okay. Something comes out of his mouth, but the muttering statement he gives her isn’t heard by himself, so he can’t be positive he actually spoke.

It feels like he’s being marched to his own execution, but he knows it’s worse. It’s Andrew’s. He’s received no confirmation that he’s being taken down because of the ghoulification process, but there’s no other reason for the secrecy, the direct order, or the other Knight that follows him down, pistol cocked and ready to fire. One wrong move and he’ll be a puddle of goo.

Garrett finds himself praying that someone will attack them, distract everyone for long enough that he can find Andrew and escape, even though no one in the Capital would be stupid enough to attack a Brotherhod compound. No such thing happens, and far too quickly the Vertibird lands, and he’s escorted off.

People watch him as he walks by, their faces filled with different emotions: sadness, fear, anger, disgust, sympathy. That alone is confirmation enough for him, they know why he’s here. They know why a Knight who spent his entire career in the bottom of different ships and planes would be outside, down on the ground, walking slowly. Word spreads quickly through the Brotherhood that has been chosen to break off to go to the Commonwealth, so he’s not surprised that everyone knows and that everyone can’t stop looking.

He follows the other Kight, Henderson he thinks, to one of the very last buildings in Brotherhood territory. Every step he takes feels like a betrayal to his husband. He should be fighting back, he should attempt to overpower his escort, steal his weapon, storm into the building, take out all the guards waiting, and rescue Andrew. But he’s not that fast, he’s not that good with a weapon, and he’s more likely to get them both killed than do any good. Still, his heart pounds as his body floods with adrenaline and goosebumps pop up across his skin as his anxiety increases.

His breakfast threatens to make an appearance as he enters the metal structure. The sounds of his footsteps ring loudly in his ear, and he slows both an attempt to lower the sound and delay the inevitable. The other Knight doesn’t let him pause, instead he’s shoved through a nondescript door and into a room.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust and when they do he goes to step forward. Andrew is tied to a chair, bleeding from his lower lip, eyes trained on the floor. Before he can move even one step Knight Henderson grips him by the arm. The power armor digs into his flesh, forcing a small cry of pain out of him. The sound must alert Andrew to his presence because the man looks up, fear is written all over his face and it takes everything in Garrett to keep himself from fighting back and rushing to Andrew’s side.

Everyone in the room is watching him, looking for his response. He goes for ignorance. “What the hell is going on here. Why is my husband tied to a fucking chair?”

At that Andrew’s eyes light up. “I told you he didn’t know. I kept it a secret from everyone.”

And just like that Garrett feels the floor slip out from under his feet. They know. It wasn’t like he didn’t suspect the reasoning behind his appearance, but now he’s got confirmation, and it makes him sick. However, Andrew is looking at him like his play is the right one, which means he has to keep playing along.

“What don’t I know, what secret?” He asks it to Andrew, playing the part of a confused husband, but he glances up to the others in the room, a Paladin, and an officer of Elder Maxon’s table. Garrett glances back down. “Andrew, what didn’t you tell me?”

“Knight Thomas, Scribe Thomas has begun the transformation into a ghoul.” Garrett knows that they’re looking for his reaction, so he plays the part.

He takes a step back, eyes wide in shock, like the news physically hurts him, and raises a hand over his chest. “What?” The word comes out strangled as he attempts to lace it with the same fear he felt the first day he discovered the ghoulified skin creeping across his husband’s back. Then, he switches tactics, he lets his hands ball into fist, channeling the anger that he has at the whole situation. “No that’s not possible,” his gaze drops to meet his husband’s eye, “Andrew tell me that’s not true.”

Instead of responding Andrew drops his head down to his chest and refuses to look at him. The Paladin speaks for him.

“Unfortunately, it is true. However,” he glances at the officer who nods once, “your reaction seems genuine. While it is unfortunate that you had to find out this way, the Brotherhood has strict rules in regards to ghouls.”

“He’s not a ghoul.” Garrett argues. “Not… not yet at least.”

He thinks he might see sympathy flash for a moment across the Paladin’s face. “While we understand your hesitation, your loyalties are still in question, Knight. You have two options. Perform your duties as the Brotherhood directs, or be charged with treason.”

At that Andrew’s head snaps up, panic floating over his features. “No, no, he didn’t know. You can’t honestly expect him to-”

“Quiet, abomination!” The officer’s voice is commanding, and leaves no room for argument. The man steps forward, producing a 10mm pistol from his side holster and holding towards him. “Knight Thomas, make your decision.”

Garrett can feel tears welling up behind his eyes, threatening to spill down. He refuses to let them fall, he has to stay strong, he can’t let them see weakness, he can’t let Andrew see him falter.

Still, he doesn’t know what to do. He never expected the Brotherhood to make him execute his own husband. How is he supposed to do that? There’s no way, he’ll refuse and take the courts-martial. But even if he does that Andrew will still die, by his hand or another’s Andrew won’t be making it out of this room. One look at his husband’s face and he can read the answer there. Better to die at the hands of someone you know, understanding that they do it out of love and compassion, rather than be put down by someone who sees you as little more than a dog.

He takes the gun.

“Don’t I get to say goodbye?” It’s Garrett’s last protest, his only request.

“No.”

Andrew’s face is full of understanding, he nods once, a silent ‘it’s okay, go ahead’. Never before has a weapon felt this heavy in Garrett’s hands. Then again, he’s never had to shoot someone he cared about before. The room is silent as he steps forward and raises the pistol.

“I love you. I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

Neither one of them feels embarrassment at the conversation, too busy reassuring the other.

Andrew closes his eyes.

Gunfire rings in Garrett’s ears for days after, filling the silence where Andrew’s voice would normally be.


End file.
